


Old Lies Die Hard

by iwpseudonym



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Polyamorous Character, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwpseudonym/pseuds/iwpseudonym
Summary: Polyamory is when you can form romantic attractions to more than one person.It is not when you're immune to infidelity.Some people fail to grasp this concept.





	1. Chapter 1

Draco had never thought that anything could hurt this much.

Sure enough, beatings hurt like hell, and losing his friends hurt even more, but this, this cold, raging pain was something new.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. "You said you were fine with it!"

"I never did!" Draco shouted. "I said I could love more than one at a time! And, and at the beginning I asked you, and you said you weren't comfortable with it, and I thought you  _understood!_ You said you wouldn't stay if I so much as  _thought_ about anyone else like that, and I agreed! But now, now you're doing this-"

"If you wanted  _me_ to be fine with it, you should return the favour!"

Draco paced around the room. "I would have! All you had to do was ask, to say something-anything-and I would've been fine! But no! You go behind my back, lying, cheating-was it worth it? Were her kisses sweet enough to sate you? Was your best friend's sister enough to fulfill all your desires?"

Harry stepped back. "You-"

"When you left me to be with her, in her bed, in her arms, was it fun? Did you two stay up giggling about how Harry Potter was so fabulously deceiving Draco Malfoy? Because you took me in completely, I can say. Then again, it is all my fault for ever  _trusting_ you. I should have known you'd be nothing but trouble..."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not dealing with this right now."

"That's right, Potter, run from your responsibilities like always."

Harry laughed as he turned to leave. "Yep! Exactly!"

"Very well." Draco took a deep breath. "If that's how you want to be, fine. You're going to have to acknowledge your guilt sooner or later, and if you'd rather wait until it's too late to apologize, fine. I hope you two are happy."

He waited until he heard the door slam behind Harry, then sunk down onto the carpet. For hours he lay quietly crying into the lush rug, questioning everything he'd ever done and said and wondering what could it have been that he'd done so wrong and doubting if it was even worth living anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco sighed. 

It had been months since he and Harry split, and he knew it was weak of him to still be upset, that anyone else would have gotten over it so much quicker, that he needed to just man up-but still, the pain lay in his heart, mainly dormant but surfacing at times. He still couldn't bring himself to go out and find a new partner, though he knew there was no shortage of handsome young men these days. Even thinking about getting into a new relationship made him physically ill as he remembered walking in on them together, hearing Harry's excuses, seeing the laughter in those emerald eyes...

He walked along the boulevard, smoking a cigarette, cursing himself for being such a weak bloody fool.

"Hello, Draco."

He looked up, and his eyes widened. There before him, decked out in all the colours of the rainbow, stood Looney Lovegood.

"Hello. How are you?" He was confused and a little alarmed. He had hardly ever spoken to the girl at school, and their families were far from friends, so what did she want with him?

"I'm doing great. You're not. What happened?"

Draco was ready to tell her he was fine, to brush off any more questions, but something in those big blue eyes made him look down and mumble "I was cheated on."

"That's unfortunate. When was this?"

"Few months ago. Thank you for your interest, but it's really nothing important. Good day, Lovegood." Draco made to walk further down the street, but paused when he noticed Luna was following him. "Can I help you?"

"I don't think that's the only thing. You never did seem happy. It's just that now you look really down. I think it'd do you good to talk over everything over a cup of tea." Luna smiled at him. "Not too busy right now?"

"I never am."

"Good. There's a great place down the street." 

Draco wanted to object, to go back home to wallow in his expensively decorated misery, but he found himself following Luna down the street and into a small greasy café, the like of which he never would have set foot in otherwise. He found himself sitting down, and before long, a hot cup of tea and a place of buttered toast being placed in front of him.

Luna sipped her own tea. "Do you want to talk about what's going on?"

Draco looked Luna in the eye. "Why are you doing this?"

"Like I said, you never seemed happy. It always seemed like you were pretending to like whatever it was you were doing, but that really you hated it. Nobody gets like that on their own, and sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to." Luna smiled again. "In your own time."

And Draco told her. He told her about the pressure he felt back in his school days, the hatred he held for Voldemort that he didn't dare show, the hatred he held for himself for so many reasons. His tea grew cold, the butter on his toast solidified, and still he kept talking, and Luna kept listening, never once yawning or interrupting or losing interest.

And Draco did feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be continued. Thank you for your kindness, everyone.


	3. Chapter 3

_Draco was six years old the first time it happened._

_He had been walking around in the town near which he lived when he noticed a small girl playing with a kitten._

_"Hello," he said. "I'm Draco Malfoy. What's your name?"_

_"I'm Alice Smith," the girl said. "Want to play?"_

_And they had played with the kitten. Draco had enjoyed himself so much he invited Alice to his house the following day, and hurried home to tell his father._

_"Father! I made a new friend today!"_

_Lucius choked on his wine. "I'm sorry? When?"_

_"Just now. I was walking down the lane and I saw her, and we played a bit." Draco smiled. "I asked her here tomorrow."_

_"Let me get this straight. You, Draco Malfoy, the heir of the noble Malfoy line, invited a Muggle girl to your home?" Lucius stood. "Could I possibly be understanding you correctly?"_

_Draco shifted slightly. "She was really nice! And she had a kitten, and-"_

_The blow from Lucius's cane sent Draco flying across the parlour. Lucius walked over to where his son lay and pulled him up by his hair._

_"If I ever hear that you associated with anyone below you again, you will get far worse than that, I promise," he hissed. "Now go to your room. I'll take care of the girl." He dropped Draco and stalked off, shouting for his house-elf._

"Draco?"

Luna was staring at him. "Are you alright?"

Draco realised that his hands were wrapped around his walking stick so tightly his knuckles were turning white. "Oh-yes. I'm fine." He ignored Luna's quizzical look and stood up. "Thank you for the tea and sympathy. Sorry to have wasted your time. Good day."

"Wait." Luna stood as well. "I'll see you again tomorrow."

"I don't know if-"

"That wasn't a question. You're ill, Draco. You need to let yourself heal. Till next time."

As Draco walked home, he kept thinking over the day's events.

_What have you gotten yourself into this time, Draco?_


	4. Chapter 4

Draco walked home, where he poured some elf-made wine into a goblin-made goblet and sat to think about the day.

He hadn't even known that Luna was in London. He had assumed she was still in Ottery St. Catchpole, blithering on about Crumple-Horned Snorcacks and Blibbering Humdingers to anyone who would listen.

For that matter, what was  _ he _ doing in London? He hated Muggles, and it wasn't as though he had nowhere else to go. The Malfoy Manor belonged to him, ever since his mother kicked Lucius out for having one too many affairs.

_ Like mother like son,  _ he mused. 

He lit another cigarette, breathing in the blue smoke as though it were oxygen. Harry had hated the habit, calling it disgusting and low. Draco now smoked several packs a day. 

He stayed up late into the night, drinking and smoking, trying to forget everything and at the same time remember.

 

*******

 

“Hello, Draco!”

This time, Luna was wearing some sort of pale blue poncho over a bright pink peasant skirt, while Draco hadn't bothered to change.

“Hello, Lovegood. How do you do?”

“How do you do? Please, sit down.”

Luna ordered more tea and toast. “Do you smoke a lot?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I do.”

“Do you enjoy it, or is it a form of escape you're using?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“You smell strongly of cigarette smoke, but you live alone and are single so it can't be anyone else’s. However, you haven't got a decorative case, which isn't in your character. Instead, you carry around a pack in your breast pocket. Also, it's opposite your non dominant hand, making it harder to get the pack out, so clearly you don't care about convenience or glamour when it comes to your smoking. Finally, you were smoking yesterday when I met you, but afterwards you walked off without even finishing your cigarette. I don't think you like smoking. I think you try to switch your pain with an addiction. It could also be that your pain is forcing your mind to turn to a more basic oral fixation as a form of escapism.” Luna sipped her tea. “I could be wrong, though.”

Draco stared at her. 

Luna shrugged. “I’ve been studying psychology. I volunteer at the new department for mental healing at St. Mungo’s, and I sometimes have to diagnose patients. Did you know that at St. Mungo’s, patients with mental health issues used to receive diagnoses of clinical insanity no matter what was really the case?”

“I did not know that. Thank you for sharing. Um. If you don't mind my asking, why do you care why I smoke?”

“Because it can really harm you, could kill you even, and it's important to develop healthy coping strategies. If it's something you like doing, I would recommend switching to lower tar cigarettes, and then to water-based ones, and then weaning yourself off and chewing gum or something. If it's something you do to distract yourself, you’d need a different approach.” Luna sipped her tea. “I know when my mother died, I used to burn things. It made me feel like I could control something powerful. I think my logic was that if I could control such a destructive force, maybe I could one day learn to control even the passage of time and life. Then day, I got very badly burnt, and I was very lucky to survive. I realised I could die if I kept doing it, so I stopped. It was hard. Arson had become a sort of comfort for me. But I knew I had to stop.”

Draco was at a loss for words. Yes, he had known that the girl had lost her mother while still very young, and that something about her was a bit strange, but he had never guessed that flames had once consumed her mind, that she had experimented with fire. 

“What did you do instead?” he asked after a moment.

“I paint.” Luna smiled at him. “Now, why don't you tell me why you smoke.”

“Hm.” Draco bit his toast. It was cheap and greasy and delicious. “I dunno.”

“Well, suppose you think about it. Were there any important people in your life who smoked a lot?”

 

********

 

_ Draco had always wanted to be like his father. His father was respected by everyone, regardless of their status in relation to his. His father had been born rich and married richer, married a pureblood woman with a pedigree even better than his own. His father projected an air of unapproachable glamour, a figure of luxury with his velvet clothing and flowing locks and ebony cane (that  _ damn  _ cane.) _

_ Even when he was meeting with important people, fellow Death Eaters, he would lounge in a leather armchair, smoking a mahogany pipe with an amber handle. _

_ Draco had tried his best to replicate the look, but as he didn't start smoking until he came of age, he had had to improvise when it came to the pipe. When Lucius had found out about Draco’s rehearsals, he had merely rolled his eyes. _

_ Even when Lucius beat him, Draco could always sense the scent of tobacco, especially when Lucius blew the smoke at his son. Draco came to associate Lucius's pipe and smoking in general with control and power, and oh how he craved control and power. Control over himself so he could finally live up to his father's expectations and stop the beatings, could live peacefully. Power over others like his father had, so he could make the world right. _

 

********

 

Draco nodded. “My father was a heavy smoker.”

“It could be that you're trying to feel closer to your father by smoking. How is your relationship? If you don't mind my asking, of course.”

He sipped his tea as he tried to come up with a good way of answering. “We’ve... grown apart.”

“Well, maybe your craving for nicotine is your brain’s subconscious way of saying that you should reach out to him.” Luna frowned. “Funny, you don't seem to like him very much. You flinch when I mention him.”

“Oh, I’m sure it's nothing,” Draco said. “No, he was a good father.”

“If you're sure.” Luna bit her own toast. “Do you know where he is?”

“Approximately.”

“Then I would definitely try and meet with him again. Unless, of course, there's anything…” Luna sighed. “How was your childhood? Did he... treat you well?”

Draco nodded. “Better than I deserved half the time, to be honest.”

Luna smiled. “My father's like that too. Well, you know what you need to do, so how about you send me a letter when you want to meet again? Here's my address…”

Luna and Draco finished their tea and toast and went their separate ways. Draco decided that he would rather die than see his father again, but…

No. He barely knew her, and Lucius wouldn't want to see him anyway. Draco decided to go and visit his mother instead.

He would thank Luna kindly for her help, then never speak to her again. He would then return to the social circle he had evicted himself from, find a respectable wife, and live peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi please comment and kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

Draco walked up the path, gravel crunching beneath his dragon skin oxfords. He tapped his chin with his walking stick, thinking about what he would say to his mother.

_ “Hello, mother. You remember how I decided to court Harry Potter? We split up and I'm an emotional wreck.” _

No.

_ “Hello. How have you been? I'm afraid I've continued to be a disappointment.” _

This lacked something as well.

Still musing over how he would greet his mother, Draco walked up the marble steps and swung the silver knocker.

He didn't expect to see his mother-the servants they had been forced to fire had been rehired after Lucius was evicted-but the person he least expected to see was the one who answered the door.

“Hello, Draco,” Lucius smiled, and Draco felt his heart sink into the very core of the Earth.

 

********

 

_ When Narcissa had kicked Lucius out, Draco had stood at the top of the stairs, watching his mother finally assert herself for once in her life and exact some sort of vengeance on her husband who had wronged her so. _

_ “It's going to be alright, Draco,” she had said, embracing him tightly. “We’re safe now.” _

_ Draco had assumed he would never see his father again. The thought took a weight he hadn't even known he was carrying off his shoulders. _

_ Now that weight returned a hundredfold. _

 

********

 

Draco reached out to steady himself on a marble pillar. His breathing grew more ragged, his already pale face drained of what little colour it had.

“Well?” Lucius smirked. “Aren't you going to say hello to your father?” 

“H-hello,” Draco mumbled. “What...why…”

“Why am I here?” Lucius's reptilian smirk grew. “Why don't you ask your mother?”

As if on cue, Narcissa entered the room. “Hello, Draco.”

“Mother!” Draco made to go to her, but was blocked by Lucius's cane. “Why is he here? Did he force his way in? Are you alright?”

“Calm down, Draco. Yes, I'm alright. Look, I’ve been thinking and...I forgive your father for what he has done. I have apologised, as has he, and we are resuming our relations. He is living here now.”

“But-”

“That is all.” Narcissa smiled. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, to scream at his mother and make her see the mistake she was making, but a sudden light tap to the stomach with the silver head of Lucius's cane gave him pause.

“Don't contradict your mother,” Lucius said softly. “Understand?”

Draco glared. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes,  _ sir. _ ”

“Very good.” Lucius turned to Narcissa. “Tea for us all, please.” When Narcissa left, he turned back to Draco.

“You must have been happy when I left.”

“I-”

“Don't interrupt me. You must have felt as though you had become the new lead of the Malfoy family.”

“I-”

“Do not interrupt me, I am not telling you again. You are young and gullible and foolish, and I am sure that you somehow managed to delude yourself into thinking that you became the new master of the house, now that I was out of the way.”

Draco said nothing.

“Knees, Draco.”

Loathing himself and his father, loathing his mother, Draco knelt on the marble tiles.

Lucius extended his boot. “Kiss it.”

Draco stayed still. 

“I gave you an order, Draco. Kiss it.”

Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tip of his father's right boot. 

“Now the other one.”

Draco kissed the other one.

“You may stand.”

Draco stood, looking down, avoiding his father's cold gaze.

“Remember who the master is.”

“Yes, sir.”


	6. Chapter 6

Draco walked after his father into the antelibrary, where his mother waited with tea. 

“Thank you, Narcissa,” Lucius said. “What tea did you make?”

“Lady Grey.”

“Excellent.” Lucius smiled. He stretched himself out luxuriously in his leather chaise longue, lighting his pipe and playing with his cane.

Draco sat rigid as a board, trying to look anywhere but the cane or his father and ended up staring at the lamp directly to his left.

_ Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me,  _ he thought.

“So!” Lucius blew his smoke into Draco's face. “What have you been up to?”

Draco said nothing.

“Last I heard, you were courting one Harry James Potter. Is this true?”

“...I am not currently in a relationship, sir.”

“But you were in one? With Potter?”

It was no use trying to lie. Lucius was just as good a Legilimens as Draco was an Occlumens.

Lucius's smirk faded. “Oh, but that's unacceptable.”

Narcissa started to say something but Lucius cut her off with a wave of his cane. 

“This is between Draco and me, Narcissa. Why don't you go read or something? Now,” he added sharply when Narcissa looked as though she wanted to argue.

Narcissa left, casting a worried look at Draco as she did.

“So.” Lucius stood over Draco, gripping his cane. “A Malfoy is practicing debauchery.”

“I'm not! I-”

“You will be silent while I am talking!” Lucius raised his cane and Draco shrank back into the soft velvet couch.

“Why are you flinching? Nothing bad is happening to you! I'm not harming you!” Lucius swung his cane just above Draco's head. “Everything I have ever done has been for your good.”

 

********

 

_ Draco remembered going to the kitchen to get ice for his bruises one day. He filled a bowl with ice and took a tissue to wipe his face with. _

_ “What's the matter?” _

_ Draco spun around. Lucius stood there, tapping his cane against his chin.  _

_ “Why are you crying?” _

_ Draco glared at his father. “Because you beat me and it hurts.” _

_ “That's no reason. Why are you crying? Do you feel  _ sorry _ for yourself? Oh, poor Draco Malfoy, his father beat him, it's so tragic.” Lucius came closer to Draco. “You should be grateful that I am teaching you how to behave. This is for your own good.” _

_ “What? How?” _

_ “If you do something and then I beat you, not only have you learned not to do that thing, but you have learned the real life consequences of doing that thing  _ and  _ you have become stronger. Like if you snivel about how mistreated you are, I hit you with my cane.” Lucius swung his cane at Draco, knocking him down. “Then you know not to complain about my treatment of you again. Understand?” _

_ “Yes, father.” _

_ “Then get up, you worthless thing. And another thing-you’re thirteen tomorrow, you're not a boy. You don't cry. Understand? If you cry, that means you're weak, and your mother and I have no use for a weak son. I’d rather raise Potter than you if you're going to be weak.” _

_ “Yes, father.” _

_ “Don't call me father. Call me sir. It is a sign of your inferiority.” _

_ “...Yes, sir.” _

 

********

 

“I believe I already told you numerous times that homosexuality is unnatural and disgusting in a Malfoy?” Lucius stroked his cane. “But apparently you still don't understand.”

“Please, please don't-”

“You will be SILENT while I am talking!” Lucius hit Draco across his face. “Get up.”

Draco stood and followed his father, shaking like an aspen in the wind.

Lucius led Draco to his study. He took down an oil painting of a tall blonde man.

“This,” he said, “is a picture of your grandfather Abraxas. You know what he's done. Do you think he would have approved of your actions? And your mother. Do you know the effects your transgressions have on your mother?” Lucius paced his study impatiently. “All our lives we have been trying to make you into a Malfoy, so when it comes time for me to die, you will uphold our noble lineage. You're my only son, Draco. You must continue the line. Do you understand that?” His voice had softened considerably. “Do you?”

“Yes, sir. I must marry a woman, have plenty of male heirs, and teach them to be proper Malfoys.”

“Good. Then why have you been courting men?”

“I haven't been courting  _ men! _ ”

“Fine, a man. That's still unacceptable.”

“I-”

“Take off your jacket.”

“Are you going to beat me into renouncing my identity?” Draco's voice trembled, the mask of bravado failing in the face of the sheer terror he felt.

“No.” Lucius whirled his cane. “I'm going to _ correct _ your view of your own identity.”

 

An hour later, Draco paced the room that had once been his. His back was too heavily bruised for him to lay down, so pacing would be his only activity that night.

Even though Malfoy Manor wasn't impossibly far from London, especially by Floo network, Draco had been forced to stay the night.

He lit a cigarette and stared out of the window, wondering how and why he had ended up here, once more at the mercy of his father with only the hope of freedom to carry him through.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco ended up staying at Malfoy Manor over the weekend and then returning to London early Monday morning. He stayed in all day, playing with the rather odd collection of antique trinkets he had amassed, and only left the house shortly after twilight began, walking down the banks of the River Thames.

He did not see Luna that day, and he supposed it was for the better. He did see Ginny Weasley, who was looking rather forlorn. 

_ Serves her right, _ he thought, and hurried on.

The next day saw him bar-hopping and drinking more absinthe than was advisable for a rhinoceros, let alone a lightweight like Draco.

The day after that Draco mainly spent indoors under three blankets, wanting to die.

There was a knock on his door.

Fighting the urge to hex the knocker into oblivion, Draco managed to stand up, wrap a sheet around himself, and answer the door.

It was Luna. 

It occurred to Draco that this had gotten more than a little creepy.

“Hello, Draco. How have you been?”

“Mm. Alright.”

“I heard,” Luna said, smiling slightly. “The Healers at St. Mungo’s said something about a young blonde dandy swanning about London's bars yesterday. I brought you these, because I'm guessing you haven't eaten much.” She handed him a cardboard box. “Get some rest, and don't do stupid things.”

“Thanks.”

Draco ended up only opening the box the next morning, and found that it contained chocolate muffins. 

He didn't want chocolate muffins. He threw the box away.

Later in the day, he received an owl from his father instructing him to go to Borgin and Burke's and retrieve a parcel, then deliver the parcel to Malfoy Manor. Draco got the parcel, brought it to his father, and was confronted with photographs of him bar-hopping.

“Where did you get these?”

“I hired a man to tail you. By the way, what did the Lovegood girl give you?”

Draco felt as though his stomach was the site of a biblical storm. “Muffins.”

“I see. Were they tasty?”

“I wouldn't know, I didn't eat them. Sir.”

“Well, you did something right at least.” Lucius sighed. “You realise I don't like to hit you? That you're forcing my hand?” He shook his head. “Take your jacket off.”

 

This time, Lucius got carried away. He even apologized as Draco pulled on his coat and fled the Manor, trying in vain to stifle his sobs. A few hours later, Draco came to his flat and tried to investigate his injuries.

His eye was bad enough-a large bruise blossomed on almost half his face-but worse was his back. It was bleeding from several places, his shirt stained with three crimson blooms. He stumbled into the nearest 24-hour convenience store, searching for medical supplies. 

As he was choosing some bandages and disinfectant, he got a certain feeling. He was being watched. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an all too familiar face.

His eyes were as green as a fresh pickled toad, his hair as black as a blackboard. The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.

Draco pretended not to see Potter and busied himself with getting medical things. He hurried to the checkout and paid, all the while cursing himself.

He only noticed that the cashier was saying something after she had repeated herself three times.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, are you alright?” The cashier squinted at him. “You seem on edge.”

“Oh. Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” Draco shot the cashier what he hoped was a smile and practically ran out of the store.

He was halfway up the street when he heard uneven footsteps behind him. His hand went to his wand and he redoubled his pace.

“Draco, wait!”

Draco stiffened. “What do you want from me?”

Harry caught up and grasped Draco's arm. “Please, Draco, I just want to talk-”

Draco pulled his arm out of Harry's grip. “Go talk to the Weasley girl. Don't bother me.”

“Draco, I-”

“What do you want from me? Haven't you hurt me enough? Haven't you already had your fill of torturing me?” Draco turned away. “There might have been a time I would have spoken to you, but that time is past. I wish you and Ginevra the best. Good day.” He started to walk away.

“Draco, we’re not together anymore.”

“Believe me, I am aware.”

“No, not you and me. Me and Ginny. We’ve broken up.”

Draco stopped in his tracks. For just a second, his heart leaped.  _ Another chance at happiness! You can be with your love again! _

“I was thinking, maybe we could...y’know, try again?”

_ Do it, Draco, you still love him! _

Draco opened his mouth, but no words came out. He shook his head.

“But-”

“No.” Draco was once more on the verge of tears. “I can't go through that again. I won't be your doll anymore.”

“But-Draco-I still love you,” Harry said softly. He stroked Draco's arm. “Let me prove it to you that I’ve changed.”

“No. You’ve had your chance to make things right.” Draco shrugged Harry off. “Good day, Potter.”

As he walked away, it occurred to Draco that Harry had never apologized.

_ Too late now, anyway. _


	8. Chapter 8

Draco got home. He bandaged his wounds, disinfecting them with cheap vodka and never mind hygiene. Somehow he fell asleep.

In the morning, he awoke to the sound of knocking on his door.

“Coming!”

It was the landlady. She’d come for the rent. “One moment,” Draco said and turned to get his wallet.

“There were two people who wanted to see you, by the way.”

“Oh? Who were they?” Draco held out the money.

“A girl with long blonde hair and a weird way about her, and a young man with messy black hair and glasses. I told them you were sleeping.”

Draco felt his blood run cold. Why were they looking for him? Why couldn't they leave him alone? What were they going to do to him?

What on  _ earth _ were they going to do to him?

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Draco closed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

_ I have money, plenty of it. I can go to Australia, or Canada. Canada's nice. I’ll change my name, I'll get a job, and then I can be safe. No one will find me if I do a good enough job.  _

As if on cue, his father's voice echoed through his head. 

_ “Are you a Malfoy or not, boy? Do we hide and cower when we're in danger?” _

Draco's hand went to his eye. He stood for a few moments longer before dressing and going out. 

He wandered about London aimlessly for a while, smoking like a chimney, thinking about nothing and everything.

He decided to try and find a girlfriend.

_ The club isn't the best place to find a lover, so the bar is where I’ll go, _ he thought. He walked into the first bar he found, the Cedar Fiddle.

He sat down at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. 

Soon, a young man with spikes on his jacket sat down next to him.

“Hey.”

“Hello,” Draco said.  _ American _ , he thought.

“How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, and yourself?”

“Doing great. I'm Jake. And you?”

“My name is Draco.”

“Draco. Nice.” Jake smiled. “So, you come here often?”

“No.”

“Ah.” They sat in silence for a bit.

“Um. You live around here?” Jake asked, making another stab at conversation.

“I do.” 

Draco was aware that he wasn't contributing anything to the conversation, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to be shot of this strange Anglophile and have a nice, peaceful evening.

“What's your cup of tea?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know. Who do you like? Girls, boys?”

Draco reddened. “I-I’m not sure that's any of your business.”

“Come on. Why else would you be here all alone?” Jake smiled again. “There's no shame in it.”

“All the same, I don't think it's any of your business. Thank you for your interest? Good day.”

Jake shrugged. “I'm here all night. Bye for now, Draco.”

Draco finished his glass of wine and ordered another, then got up to use the facilities. When he returned, he picked up his glass and drained it.

_ Something feels off, _ he thought.  _ It's too...sweet. _

Just as he was coming to this realisation, Jake came up behind him.

“Hey, Draco. Having fun?”

“Mm. My head is spinning.” 

“Aw. Didn't think you'd be such a lightweight.” Jake slipped his arm around Draco's waist. “What do you say we have a little fun?”

Draco tried to push him off. “No, seriously, I don't feel good. I feel…”

His eyes widened. “Sleepy!”

“What's that?”

“I'm-you drugged me! You spiked my drink!” Draco redoubled his efforts. “Get off of me!”

“Shut it!”

“LEAVE ME BE!”

Draco shoved Jake off of him and stumbled backwards, his head spinning. 

“C’mon, babe. Don't make a scene.”

“I'm not your babe! Leave me alone!” Draco clutched a table for support. Around him, people stared. A few bikers stood up.

“Draco, you're drunk. Come on. I’ll drop you home.”

“Stop it!” Draco's eyes were closing, his eyelids like lead weights.

The last thing he saw as he slipped into unconsciousness was a giant biker slamming Jake into a table.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going through a not-so-pleasant period right now. This is me coping.


End file.
